[of dreams and galaxies]

[ Metaphors]

Living would've been easy if
we were to live like clouds /floating around  amidst a traffic filled karachi's road
on days filling the sky so callously, with pinks and oranges and blues, the darkest shades of blue with a bit of white that you can't help but take a look maybe even capture it in your mind for later when you miss the sky or yourself
and on days the sky hold the clouds just barely
you close your eyes and it's gone like smoke or like my words, leaving as if never been there
but once existed in the last layer of white, existed but left no colour behind, like how tonight I'm letting the clouds in, telling them that my heart miss the colors, the blues, the pinks, the oranges
for it's been so long it only sees Grey like the smoke of my father's cigarette, like the sky of my favorite city, like how I keep trying to write metaphors because saying I'm feeling grey like smoke is easy rather than it's been a long time since I have taken a breathe without choking back the tears that my heart kept pouring